Afterward
by No Longer a Phan
Summary: Christine is dead now, and Raoul has to deal with what's next. But he can never expect what that is.
1. The Phantom's Rose

Disclaimer: NOT MINE.

…

It wasn't autumn, but it wasn't winter. It was bleak, and any trace of color in the leaves there might have been was gone. It was bitterly cold, but it wasn't snowing. The sun almost poked through the clouds, but not quite. The weather matched the occasion.

Christine had died.

Raoul heart felt as if someone had torn it out of his chest, then put it roughly shoved it back in. It was several days after she had died, and the funeral ceremony had just ended. People were still saying their goodbyes, leaving flowers and such around her grave. Raoul didn't want to leave Christine's grave, but so many people had attended that when he was done, he had to move away from it for the time being.

Christine had made many friends- she had always been a good listener and understand-er, particularly after… Raoul put it out of his mind.

Raoul and Christine had four children- Jord, William, Estelle and Aubin. William and Aubin were both boys, and Jord and Estelle were both girls. Aubin was the youngest, having only just turned five a few weeks before Christine's death. He had fair hair and blue eyes, and his complexion took after his father's. Estelle, the second youngest at seven years old looked almost exactly like Christine when she was seven, except she too had blue eyes, unlike Christine's fawn brown ones. William was fourteen and second eldest with dark brown hair like Christine's. He had Christine's soft brown eyes, but a build like Christine's fathers when he was young.

Then there's Jord-16 and willowy tall, with somewhat straight, impossible to manage jet black hair and a piercing stare from those fiery black eyes. Jord was unexpectedly strong, both physically and mentally- even her presence had a strange potency. And though she was extremely terse, her words had an aura of power around them.

Jord was also a singer. She had yet to start taking lessons from anyone other than Christine, but her voice was surprisingly deep and, once again, powerful. Raoul found it invigorating to hear Jord and Christine sing together, though he knew that it would never happen again.

Raoul's heart skipped a beat when he saw a dark figure walking toward the funeral in the distance. The figure was wearing all black, from his long, billowing cape to his hat. Raoul knew there was no prize to guess whom it was.

Raoul began approaching the figure, who kept his head down, rendering it impossible to see his face. He was still far away, but drawing nearer every moment.

Both men met in the middle. Raoul and the figure stopped simultaneously several feet away from each other. Raoul stared at the figure's hat expectantly. Slowly, the Phantom raised his head, his white mask over his face.

"Leave now," Raoul said coldly. Erik shook his head.

"I'm here to mourn my angel," Erik said weakly, "Let me pass." Raoul shook his head- he wasn't going to let Erik anywhere near his children.

"I'm not letting you near her grave," Raoul growled. Erik's yellow eyes flashed with anger.

"I didn't come hear to kill you, Raoul, though I might change my mind if you persist," Erik said threateningly, "All I want is to leave this rose upon her grave." Both men took an angry step forward.

"Leave now," Raoul hissed, "And _never_ come back."

"Insolent boy! I came here for the same reason as you, and yet you deny me the chance to leave one silly flower on Christine's grave!" Erik fumed, his hatred for Raoul becoming even greater.

"You expect me to trust you after everything you did to her?" Raoul barked, "All you ever did was hurt her you monster!" suddenly Erik didn't feel angry anymore. He felt cold and alone. He turned his face away in shame. "_Leave_."

"Promise me you'll put this on My Angel's grave," Erik said, "Please. That's all I ask of you."

"_How dare you say that! How _dare _you!"_ Raoul screamed.

"I thought the same thing," Erik snarled, "Now leave this on my angels grave or _I shall sing it!_" Raoul could not describe the hatred that tore at his heart. He could hardly resist attacking Erik, except that it was likely he had the Punjab Lasso with him. But he knew Erik would not leave until he was satisfied

"Fine," Raoul said, snatching the rose from Erik, "Now _leave_." Erik slowly turned around and went without a second glance. Raoul stared after him until Erik disappeared from view.

Raoul turned his gaze to the Phantom's Rose, the rose he promised to put on Erik's angel's grave. Raoul fingered the black ribbon Erik tied around it.

Raoul dropped it. He turned and left, leaving Erik's rose to wither and die. _The Phantom has no angel_.

…

After note: Erik has yellow eyes in the book. Check it. And yes, I still adore the metaphor of the rose from the movie Chapter name suggestions welcome. Did anyone catch the LOTR reference? I'm not a big LOTR fan, but I couldn't resist :D. Please review.


	2. Truth is Pain

Disclaimer: not mine. Grr.

…

Raoul was completely alone as he stroked Christine's gravestone. _Christine Daae,__1864-1897, _it read,_ May her voice sing on forever_. Several tears spilled onto his cheeks. _33. My little lotte was only 33_.

Raoul suddenly felt Jord approach him silently. He looked up and stood up, simultaneously brushing his tears away. Raoul wanted to say something, but Jord cut in.

"We need to talk." Jord took his wrist and began leading him away from Christine's grave.

Raoul was stunned. It was completely unlike Jord to be so urgent, never mind to speak first, if she spoke at all. And Jord never seemed to 'need' anything- never mind to talk. Jord stopped leading Raoul, as if satisfied with the place she had found. She turned around, looking Raoul straight in the eye.

"Who's voice do you hear in mine?" Jord demanded. Raoul gave Jord a blank stare. "When I sing- whose voice do you hear?"

"Christine's?" Raoul said, furrowing his brow. This didn't make sense to him. Jord's eyes flashed in annoyance the same way someone might slap their forehead.

"Oh honestly! Don't treat it like a trivia question!" Jord exclaimed.

"I don't understand…" Raoul said in bemusement, "What are you trying to ask me? Or rather, what answer do you want?" Jord pursed her lips, and her jaw mussels twitched. "my dear Jord…"

"Raoul, _you are not my father!"_ Jord exploded. Raoul stared at her agog.

"_What?_"

"You heard me," Jord snapped, "You are not my father." Raoul had had enough- he was tired of the game.

"Oh really," Raoul said slightly sarcastically, "So who is?" a strange, gentle, almost fond smile crept across Jord's face. She had turned it slightly to the side. Then she looked at Raoul again, her black eyes sparkling

"His name," Jord said, "is Erik."

"_ERIK!" _Raoul roared, "_Have you lost your MIND!"_ Raoul was sure that Jord had really flown the coop this time- this was insane! How she found out that The Phantom's name was Erik was beyond him, and how she got the idea that he was her father was completely absurd.

"No!" Jord burst out, "I am completely sane, thank you! I am Erik's daughter, and-"

"YOU ARE MY DAUGHTER," Raoul spat, "NOT THE DAUGHTER OF THAT _MONSTER_!"

"He wasn't a monster!" Jord screeched, "He musician! An angel of music!" Raoul recoiled in anger.

"_HE WAS NO ANGEL!"_

"Not to you," Jord said, unable to keep a smile from flickering across her face, but was soon replaced with a scowl. Raoul glared at his daughter in fury, but his glare was more than met by Jord's returning one. A fire burned behind the black in her eyes, such passion, such hate, such bitter convulsion that even the Vicompt couldn't hold her gaze. He turned his head, looking down, then took a breath to speak. He began to say, looking at his daughter-

And Jord was walking in the other direction.

"Jord! Where on earth are you going!" Raoul called.

"To find my _real_ father!" Jord called back.

"Maybe you were sane before, but THIS IS MADNESS!" Raoul began stumbling after who he still believed was his daughter. "Are you AWARE that it has murdered TWO MEN?"

"HE!" Jord snapped, "And YES, I am AWARE that ACCORDING TO COMMON BELIEF, Erik is considered a killer, kidnapper and ghost."

"And you are WILLINGLY going to TRY to get IT to understand YOU are ITS DAUGHTER!"

"YES!" Jord said and broke into a run.

"JORD!" Raoul ran after her, but it was no use. She wasn't so much fast as nimble, leaping between the trees. It had only been a few seconds, but Raoul had been outran.

"JORD! YOU CAN'T DO THIS, YOU HEAR! GET BACK HERE!" Raoul's attempts to get his daughter back were folly. "JORD! JOrd!" silence was his only reply. Raoul leaned against a tree, and sank down slowly. "Oh Jord…. Why?... Why so soon? Please Jord no… I can't take this now…" Raoul's face fell into his hands, silvery tears streaming down his cheeks. Christine was gone, and now Jord was too. _Truth is pain._ Jord was not his, never was his, never will be his._ Truth is pain_. Erik had probubly thought the same thing, but he really was a monster. He was no man. But now he had Raoul's last scrap of hope.

_Truth is pain._

_Jord is gone. _

….

I would say poor Raoul, except he is just being a fop again.


	3. 2 in one: Parting With the Past

Yahoo- two chapters in one, because the first one was to short! (waves little flags on toothpicks around) whoooooo...

Disclaimer: I own Jord, not her origins (WHOA… EWW…) (readers: ok that is NASTY! I'm going to wash my hands NOW!)

Part 1: the sad part…

….

Many say that Raoul was the last to see Jord before she went on, but this is far from true, for several reasons; one, she had to run through the crowded streets of Paris to get to the Opera Populaire, and second of all, as she was running, she ran into William.

"William!" Jord stammered, "umm…" William just shook his head.

"I heard everything," he replied, "or at least some of it. I'm not sure what I heard. But I'm not going to stop you."

"Thank you, Will," Jord said, turning to leave.

"Before you go," Will said, "will you just answer one question?" Jord nodded her ascent. "Will I see you again?" For a moment, Jord was silent.

"No," she replied. Will nodded as a pang of surprise and guilt made its way into his gut. "Or at least, it's not likely. We may. We may not."

"You've never been one to exaggerate," Will said quietly before falling silent as well. Jord shifted the weight on her feet slightly uncomfortably.

"I hate to make this a rushed good bye," Jord said, "but long ones never suited me well. I'm sorry, Will." The two embraced tightly. "good bye, Will."

"farewell," Will whispered, tears running down his face. Jord gently kissed her half-brother's cheek.

"Fair journies, Will," she said, "and endless adventures." The two loosened their grip simultaneously. Jord and Will looked into each other's eyes, attempting one last time to plumb the depth's of the other's mind.

Jord turned slowly and walked away without a backward glance. Will stared after her for a long time.

"To both of us," he whispered.

…

And: the chapter you ALL saw coming. Otherwise known as the most common FF POTO chapter ever to be written. Sorry, what can I do.

Disclaimer: YES YES YES I OWN EVERY WORD! I AM WEBBER, THE INSANE, 7TH GRADE ROBOTIC NUTZO PHANGIRL!

Ha ha. Fooled you for a moment there. I own only the original stuff. (cough, cough)

Fore note- I apologize if anyone gets pissed at me for religious references, but if you're into Fan fiction for the 'angle of music,' then you should be used to this sorta thing. Sorta. You probably won't notice, but if you do… don't bother me.

Post forenote: Erik doesn't think like this I swear… You'll know what I'm talking about once you get there. Seriously. Just a comment that came out veeeeery wrooooooong…. actualy, two...

…

Even the dust had settled at this point. Not a vapor of mist dared to move. Endless papers simply lay scattered, and not a tuft of wind dared disturb Erik's vigil, and had not for uncounted years. He bothered not with trying- he just didn't care as time whittled away at his bones. Occasionally he would throw fits, hurling the remnants of the Punjab, putting old sheets of paper alight for no reason or throwing anything and everything he could get his hands on, but even that had stopped now. He just waited- for absolutely nothing at all.

The slightest movement in the dust drew Erik immediately onto full alert. He had been perched perilously on one of the dime-sized rocky outcrops of the cavern walls, but immediately bolted up and peered into the mist. For several minuets, only faint rustles could be heard, but soon enough, a fait splashing followed. _So the boy wishes to finish his business, hmm? Stupid fop._

It occurred to Erik that it might just be another stage worker eager to prove that the Opera Ghost did not exist, in which Erik acquired his next idea. Silently, he agilely navigated on all the other dime-sized outcrops of the wall until he was shrouded in shadows in another alcove, but this time of ingenuity and consequence.

Having studied music his life, Erik had his fair taste of sound engineering. Though he did not know what he had learned, he had discovered the principles of destructive and constructive interference and the law of reflection (the angle of incidence is equal to the the angle of reflection, people). He knew of 'dead spots,' where sounds coming from a certain point would not be heard, and other spots where he could impose a fly's wing-shudder over an entire theater and overpower a full orchestra. Using his knowledge, he had constructed this niche for this one purpose- to frighten away unwelcome 'visitors.'

To his own rage and delight, Erik recognized the faint outline of his gondola. Every pillow was still in place, as if still willing to carry down Christine as gently as one would on a cloud. Erik refrained from sighing, as the noise would carry throughout the lair. More and more now, as the contours of the gondola became firmer and details began to form, Erik felt himself thinking wistfully, a picture of his angel forming slowly in his mind. Almost ironically, he felt at the same time seeing the gondola as Helios' fire chariot, a conveyor of the god's sacred word to bestow upon the Greeks, or the holy conveyor of the _messiah_, or simply the dinghy Dante took across the river Styx, to proceed into the next ring of hell. (Don't tell me you've never read Dante's Inferno? Never even _heard _of it? oh come on!)

_Concentrate Erik,_ he told himself, _it's just a stupid boat._ Erik refocused his eyes to find that his guest was practically on the shore, and as they arrived, to Erik's surprise, didn't cause the irritating grating sound the bottom of a boat makes when it slides over sand- something that, to his knowledge, only he had been able to do with _that_ gondola (he could literally hear Raoul as he docked on the other side). Peering outward, he was able to make the faint outline of a young woman-

Which was greatly illuminated as she lit one of the candles that had long since gone out. She lit a just few others, some around the organ and the others from what remained of his candelabras, creating only enough light to cast shadows. Totally confused, Erik just gaped at her, before shaking free of his state of stun. He took a breath to frighten the corset off this unsuspecting victim-

(guess what comes next?)

"_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation- darkness stirs and wakes imagination... Silently, the senses abandon their defenses…" _(never guessed, did ya?)

Erik's lower jaw immediately detached itself from the rest of his skull as he swore he was not hearing what he was actually hearing- it was, quite frankly, completely impossible! The music of the night was gone! End! Fin! Finito! Over! For good! Never again to be sung by lips of any angel, phantom or man.

And now some stark mad stage-crew teen girl punk was singing it. Erik decided that his waiting had paid off and he really had gone off his rocker.

But his mind could not hallucinate _La_ _Musique de la Nuit._ It was gone from him, gone for good, or at least never to resurface.

"_Slowly, deftly, night unfurls its splendor- grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Hearing is believing for music is deceiving, hard as lightning but soft as candlelight… Dare you trust the Music of the Night…_"

Even as Erik resisted it, he felt his whole being become that of a musician, not a figment of dieing memories. A little twang went through him as he realizes the words were not the same as he had written them.

"_Give your mind to the music, forget all you've seen, and all that you have been judged for… In the darkness sin is no more than memory, and the present is worth far more…"_

As the girl paused, Erik realized he was _furious_- she changed the lyrics! Altered _his_ music! Sure, it was over, but one cannot change the past… _no more than memory_…

"_Softly, deftly, music shall surround you. Hear it, feel it closing in around you… Open up your mind! Let your fantasies unwind! In this darkness which you know you cannot fight- the darkness… of the Music of the night…."_

Same lyrics… different lyrics… _make up your mind_! Something in Erik clicked though, and he could not bring himself to stop her. Even if it meant this _torture_, the brutal _mutilation _of his music, he would not stop her from trying.

_Brutal mutilation? Honestly Erik, you are crazy!_ The fact was, she had sung it perfectly.

"_Close your eyes, start a journey through a strange, new world, close your eyes, for truth is not what you wish to see… In the dark it is easy to pretend… In the dark, it is easy to be free…_"

_No consistency with the lyrics,_ Erik mused, _but a nice touch there… combining the two stanzas. The effect of each is lost, but good ending line... _Erik shook his head. _This is insanity…_ Regardless, Erik itched to hear the next stanza- it would, indeed, be her ultimate test. Erik grinned at the idea of her flinching at her own words, or a look of distain passing over her features.

"_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication… touch me- trust me! Savor each sensation…"_

_Ah well,_ Erik thought, _No flinch… a bit of a wince over by 'touch' though... tee hee… Yes, I am a madman now… little teens… pfft… Enough flashbacks, please!_

"_Let the dream begin! Let your darker side give in, feel the power of the music that I write…. The power of the music of the night…"_

Erik bristled. _Shut up shut up shut up…. _**I** _wrote it... _Another little voice sprang up in his head._ But it isn't yours anymore, is it now? You gave it to Christine and now SHE'S dead… so this twat gets it. Don't complain_. The girl glanced around in the darkness, for a moment a sitch of doubt in her eye.

"_You alone can make my song take flight..." _She walked over to the organ, looking it over. She stroked the keys, piquing Erik's blood stream, before choosing five. "_Help me make the music of the…"_ As she took a breath, Erik realized that _this_ was her chance to prove herself- not that little acting bit. It had been easy for Erik to say, considering whom he had been saying it to. She was just singing it into the darkness, where only the Opera Ghost was.

She hit one of the keys, and the next moment stifled a gasp.

"_night…"_

...  
A/N: I hate cliffies too (grin) I'll have this updated in a jiffy, which is an actual unit of time...


	4. Like Father Like Jord

Disclaimer: conjecture

…

"_night…_"

Jord stopped dead, then slowly removed her finger from the organ. The key was still held down. The second chord began, and another key pressed, a few notes up, and was joined by several others. As the third cord resounded and Jord gathered her bearings, she listened to find the direct source of the voice that surrounded her- just to find there was none. It was literally _exuding_ from the walls around her, rich as honey and clear as glass.

She caught the faintest traces of footsteps among the noise and refocused on the shadows in front of her. Nothing. She oh-so-slowly turned, trusting only what she saw- her ears would not help her with this confounded echoing. She saw a flicker of movement and remained focused on it, until it formed into the body of the disembodied voice. He finished up the note, and fell silent

The organ slammed out a few notes far louder than necessary. Jord held her surprise, still knowing that neither of them had touched more than one.

For a moment, neither spoke. However, Erik went first;

"_Why are you here_?" Jord held back a smile, knowing she would have said the exact same thing.

"You are my father," she said simply. Erik laughed. "what?"

"Do the math," he said, "one and one is four, according to _your_ father." Erik stared at her hard. "So go home to your little viscount before I make you." Erik walked to his organ, gently stroking the side, almost possessively. Jord balled her hands into fists.

"No," she hissed, pointing at Erik, "_You_ do the math. I was born half a month earlier than thought possible, which left ample time-"

"Ample time for what?" Erik roared, turning a very deep shade of scarlet (cough), "Do you honestly _think _Christine would have even let me _near _her?"

"In all _honesty_," Jord said flatly, "you're very _physical_ for a _spiritual_ being." Erik rounded on her, fully intent on slapping her. He stopped, however, as their eyes met, both ablaze. Jord glared daggers into Erik with her black eyes, while he in return burned her at the stake with his yellow ones. Few could ever had held either of their eyes, particularly now as the two stared each other down. They both resisted blinking as each tried to out-stare the other in a battle of wills and eyes.

Then Erik's eyes went soft. Jord blinked a few times in surprise, not sure of what she had seen. She tried to continue boring into Erik, and was immediately was assailed by guilt, to glare at someone looking like this. But no matter what she tried, she found herself doing one thing she had never done before- she dropped her gaze.

It was caught up again when she felt Erik's hands tenderly grasping her shoulders. Jord looked up into Erik's eyes once more and immediately overwhelmed by softness, and forced herself to suppress a shudder. But it wasn't just softness- it was… love. Love so strong, she almost looked away, but was too entranced by Erik's eyes, now a shade of soft saffron.

"What is your name?" Erik asked, his voice gentler than a summer breeze, almost musical. It seemed so smooth, compared to her own, or Raoul's constant yowling.

"Jord," she said quietly. Erik laughed quietly, looking at the ground, his eyes filled with pain and wonderment. Jord frowned indignantly. "what?" Erik shook his head.

"Just something… your mother is telling me." Erik was silent. Jord raised an eyebrow. "Through your name."

"My name?" Erik nodded.

"It was a message to me. A flag."

"Will you tell me?" Erik thought for a moment.

"When the time is right," was all he said. Jord frowned again.

"And this will be, say, in about… five million years, if my math is correct. I hate waiting!" Erik laughed again, a little louder this time. "What?"

"You just remind me of your mother… always so inquisitive." In Erik's eye, a spark of sadness ignited, but he blinked back any tears he might have.

Something shifted between the layers of Jord's shift. _Not yet. Not until the time is right._

…

A/N- If you know what Jord's name means, don't spoil it yet! If you don't know, don't look it up, unless some demon refuses to leave your body until you comply with looking it up. The only reason I say this is because it comes into play later. You can weight, cantcha?


	5. Dis and Belief

Disclaimer: conjecture

Fore note: I was thinking of a few reviews of 'Masked and Forgotten' at one point, so it's her fault :P jk. I managed to edit out most of her influence… but still. ;D Have a cookie.

…

Jord shifted uncomfortably as Erik went over to his organ and sighed. Silence rang out sharply, but fortunately Jord knew she had to break it.

"There's another reason I came," She said. Erik turned his head to give Jord a sideways look.

"Is there now?"

"I also came for the Music of the Night," Jord said, "As I have said." Erik scowled.

"And as _I _have said, _it's over now, the Music of the Night!"_ Erik sang, and some chords played on the organ automatically.

"There, you see? More music." Erik made a dismissive gesture that resembled a conductor stopping an orchestra.

"Not the point. Did you hear what I said?" Erik did not wait for Jord to reply to his rhetorical question. "It's done. Gone. Its Christine's, and now she's dancing in her grave."

"Don't say THAT about MY mother!" Jord screamed.

"Then don't bother ME about MY MUSIC!"

"Well AS YOU SAID, it's NOT YOURS!"

"Then WHAT do YOU propose I DO?" Jord tried to say something, but simply had nothing to say. "Exactly. The Music of the Night is not up for discussion." This time, Jord scowled.

"So what are you going to do? Sit down here and rot until your death?"

"Well, actually, that was the general plan until you came down. Then I was going to scare your pants off. That didn't seem to work either, though." Jord's face fell. _Now what_?

"Well… um… fine. I'll leave you here to decompose while I go and wander the streets of Paris until I get killed or I get a job."

"That's a good girl." Erik didn't seem deterred by the idea.

"I'm serious!"

"Suuuuuuuuuuure..."

"I'll prove it!"

"Go ahead," he said quietly, "prove you'll leave this place. Prove you'll leave me like every one else has. Prove to me that you can leave me down here without means of escape until the devil takes me. You do that. Congrats, you've run away from the beast. Oh, the joy. Prove to me you'll give up. Go on, now, do it! Just leave me here… you deserve better. Just go, _go now, leave me!"_ Erik snatched some papers and hurled them into the air. "Well? What are you waiting for! You came here for music and there is none, so _leave!_ I don't want you here- you're just another problem to deal with. Leave and let this place burn down. Go ahead, get drunk, get rich, get a boyfriend, but most importantly, _get out!_"

Jord stood her ground.

"I said to leave and _I mean it!_ Don't forget I am a murderer and have haunted this blasted Opera house for a lifetime, and I could kill you in a second! It would _matter,_ now would it? As soon as they find me alive they will kill me for the deaths of Piangi and that bastard _Bouquet_, so one more crime couldn't hurt. _Leave! LEAVE NOW! DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU HEar…"_ He stopped. The tune of _Masquerade_ chimed throughout the lair.

Erik rolled his eyes. _Of course NOW it works…_

"Did you write that?" Jord asked, smirking.

"Um… no…"

"You did, didn't you?" Jord half sneered, half laughed. "Did you make the music box too?"

"I said I didn't write it," Erik said nervously.

"Well you're lying," Jord snapped. "I never guessed you'd be able to design a music box without any help… What did you use for materials? How long did it take to figure it out?"

"I- I said I didn't write it, and I didn't make the stupid monkey box, alright?" Erik snarled. "Just-… just go... I… I want to be alone right now."

"Why?" Jord asked, her eyes distant.

"I just do, alright!" Erik said, getting quite frustrated.

"No- why did you write it?"

"What?" Erik looked blank. "Why did I write it?" Jord nodded impatiently. "Umm… I… honestly don't know… I just… like music a lot, I guess…" Erik immediately slapped his forehead.

"Aha!" Jord cried, "you see? You love music and you _still_ love music. Now stop sulking and start being a musician."

"_What!_ _Two hours after Christine's funeral?"_

"Write a requiem."

"I give up!" Erik threw up his hands. "Someone get this teenaged delinquent out of my home!"

"It's heritage," Jord said, "now stop throwing a tantrum and play."

"How puerile. Next your going to be telling me to have a cookie, aren't you?"

"Well, I have a few scones," Jord pointed out, fiddling with a small pack she had with her, "so if you want… have a cookie." Jord offered him a scone.

"Oh good god, woman, you are mad!"

"Ever heard of lineage?"

"It comes from your mother's side," Erik said coolly, "I'm not one to fool around. But please… just… give me some time. I… don't like being around people." Erik choked out the words, unaccustomed to speaking so much in one sitting. Singing, he could do- hours and hours of incessant singing. But even that was over. _Over, over, all over…_

Erik didn't even wait for Jord to reply. He just paced around his lair in silence once more. Everything was too much- he just wanted it to leave. He could deal with endless hours of hunger; he could live with loneliness, survive without warmth and even make it without music. But he could not control the girl tramping down into his lair claiming she was his daughter. He could defeat everything except what he, in theory, loved.

"Why not?" Jord asked quietly.

"Hmm what?" Erik said, only half paying attention.

"Why don't you like people?" Jord stared at him, a touch of innocence in her eyes. Erik glared back, completely unconvinced. He was tempted to jeer at her with how stupid the question was.

But, he reflected, at least she cared enough to ask.

"Because people hate me," Erik sighed, "for things I cannot control." _They've always hated me and always will hate me, and you will learn to hate me to. Just like Christine and her little Viscount- you will loathe me. They all do_.

"I don't hate you."

"Not yet."


End file.
